Harley Merlin 12 by Bella Forrest (story books to read TXT) 📗

“The bigger picture. It’s too… Katherine. Gives me some nasty flashbacks.” I ran a hand through my still-damp hair, praying the mention of my mother wouldn’t bring the Puffballs back.

“Sorry.” She blushed furiously. “I meant, for the sake of reaching Atlantis and finding out what Erebus wants there.”

“Why are you so interested?” I countered.

She sighed, giving me a look that made me feel like I’d said something idiotic. “You know why, though it seems you’ve got a leaky memory. I told you back in Greece, Atlantis is the one gaping hole in my knowledge. It’s beyond the reach of the Librarian, which is an oddity in itself. In a way, it feels like my duty to find out what’s there and fill in that gap. And I’m intrigued as to why Erebus is so eager to find the place. Maybe his reason and mine aren’t so different.”

“Knowledge for its own sake isn’t worth your safety, and Erebus wanting to go there too isn’t something we should investigate. Leave that to Finch and get the details afterward. That’s the logical way to proceed,” Luke protested, but Melody offered him a pained glance.

“I can’t hide for the rest of my life, Luke, and let all this knowledge go to waste or make someone else do the hard work for me. I want to make myself useful. And it’s not as if I’ll be alone. I have both of you.”

My heart pounded. “You think Erebus will take me with him?”

“You don’t?” she replied, her tone genuinely curious.

“I hadn’t thought that far, but… knowing him, you’re probably right.” My mind drifted to Raffe, and I prayed he was finding success in the UAE. Maybe, if he found an escape route, I could get out from under Erebus’s thumb before it came to that.

Nash came back into the room with a tiny potted bluebell in one hand and a syringe in the other. The syringe was filled with red liquid. Thick, viscous… definitely blood.

“You planning on doing some gardening, buddy?” I joked through my anxiety. Etienne had instilled a healthy fear of potted plants in me at the monastery. If these babies started screaming, I couldn’t be held responsible for my actions.

“No, I want to show you something.” Nash set the plant on the nearest workbench and rested the nib of the syringe on the edge of the pot. He’d rolled his right sleeve above his elbow, revealing a Band-Aid across the crook of his arm. It appeared he’d drawn that blood fresh from the vein a few seconds ago.

Huntress sat in the center of the room, watching us all intently. Dogs were meant to be cute, not hella creepy. Its eyes were solemn, the emotion impossibly human.

I forced my attention back to Nash. He pushed the plunger, and a few drops of blood dripped into the soil. Black threads spiderwebbed up the thin stem of the plant, spreading out into the flowers. The bluebells trembled for a moment before the petals curled and turned gray. Fragments broke away like ash, falling to the soil.

“Why did it die?” I asked, a creeping dread slithering through my belly, climbing into my chest.

Nash set down the syringe and gestured to the Band-Aid on his arm. “You know about the particular power of my Sanguine blood, or you wouldn’t be here. And you know about the djinn curse.” He paused. “But what you don’t know is that I asked a djinn to curse me in the first place, to keep blood-hunters away.”

“Blood-hunters?” Luke peered at the dead plant.

“Sanguines have been hunted to near-extinction. The handful of us remaining are still targets, especially a Sanguine with a bloodline like mine. That’s why I’ve taken to living off-grid, away from anyone who might try and steal my blood from me,” he explained. “I sought the djinn because I wanted my blood to be unusable to anyone who came looking. I made sure the news of my blood curse spread, to reduce the risk of people hunting me.”

Another fragment of bluebell fell. “But if your blood does that to a plant, what’s it doing to you? Or does it only turn lethal once it’s out of you?” I asked.

“No, it’s killing me slowly.” He dipped his chin to his chest. “But I made the decision, a long time ago, that it was better to live a free and short life than a long and miserable one of constant pursuit—or a much shorter one, if I wound up getting my blood drained for some crazy, evil magical’s spells.”

“Goodness… that’s… that’s awful.” Melody gathered her fluffy jacket closer, as if she’d felt a sudden chill.

Nash tugged his sleeve down. “It was the only way. Besides, I’m not eager to live longer than Huntress. As my Familiar, her life is extended beyond normal canine parameters, but she still won’t live as long as a human. When she goes, I hopefully won’t be far behind her.” He had to be in his mid-thirties, at least, which meant Huntress had been alive a hell of a long time.

The husky whined quietly, breaking my damn heart. One man and his dog, against the world and all its bloodthirsty hunters. For the second time this week, I found myself understanding the inner workings of someone under a lot of strain. Kadar had thrown himself from a building because he couldn’t take the pain anymore. Nash had sentenced himself to slow death because he couldn’t take the constant terror and pressure of persecution. Both had valid reasons, but to make the choice that Nash had made… that took some serious guts.

Now I understood why he’d gone on the offensive when we’d sauntered down his forest track. Strangers weren’t simply a nuisance for him; they could signify his death. Even with his blood cursed, it was likely a force of habit to attack first and ask questions later.

“I’m sorry, man.” I found my voice, looking at Nash with a newfound respect and admiration. He’d taken his fate into